


19 New Messages

by hawkinsbunny



Category: IT (2017), IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bev and Stan are straight sorry yall, Bisexual Richie Tozier, College, Drunk Dialing, Eddie Kaspbrak & Beverly Marsh Are Best Friends, Eddie Kaspbrak Loves Richie Tozier, Eddie Kaspbrak is a jealous disaster, Fluff and Angst, Gay Eddie Kaspbrak, Jealousy, M/M, Oblivious Richie Tozier, Pennywise who dat, Post-Break Up, Richie Tozier & Stanley Uris Are Best Friends, Richie Tozier Loves Eddie Kaspbrak, Sexting, Smoking, Somehow this turned into a very drinking heavy fic, Underage Drinking, Voicemail, but like thats what you do in college, or at least thats what i did in college
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-17
Updated: 2019-10-28
Packaged: 2020-12-21 04:54:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 17,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21069191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hawkinsbunny/pseuds/hawkinsbunny
Summary: Eddie Kaspbrak is disasterously jealous when he sees his ex Richie Tozier post a photo on Instagram with a cute guy... Being drunk is the perfect time to confront those feelings by leaving a ton of voicemails, right?A.K.A. Eddie and Richie's sloppy, drunk, goofy misadventure of re-sparking their connection after a very silly breakup. (Featuring perfect best friend Stanley and ideal roommate Beverly!)





	1. Like the bottles on the floor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by FLETCHER's "Undrunk" - https://youtu.be/hhY_ZPzz5JU
> 
> It's November 2019, and our boys Eddie and Richie are in their freshman years at separate colleges. (They're no longer together, they broke up after high school graduation.) Anyway, Eddie sees Richie in an Instagram photo with a cute boy and he decides to get drunk and tell Richie how much it irritates him. Via voicemail. He'll surely not regret this, whatsoever.
> 
> [Special Note: This was originally intended as a ONE-SHOT! It was inspired by the song and I concluded it in a way that it can read as a one-shot. However, I'm fascinated by the idea of an unhappy breakup and the intensity of the rebuild after they reconcile their relationship.]

**[Please enter your password.]**

*** * * ***

**["Richie Tozier, mothafuckers!" You have. 19. New Messages.]**

**Voicemail 1 - NOVEMBER 3, 2019 at 1:20 A.M.**  
"Fuck-" _*low thud*_

**Voicemail 2 - NOVEMBER 3, 2019 at 1:33 A.M.**  
"Hi fuckface. It's Eddie Spaghetti ... I fuckin hated that nickname, so it's PRETTY WEIRD to call myself that, right? ... Like, do you call yourself 'Trashmouth?'" *a loud fake laugh* "You probably do, nothing ever fuckin bothers you-"

**Voicemail 3 - NOVEMBER 3, 2019 at 1:43 A.M.**  
"-don't know why I'm even messing, but I just wanted you to know that this ‘cute baby boy' as you used to call me is drunk as FUCK right now in a bar full of hot dudes who are all touching me and buying me jello shots and shit-"

**Voicemail 4 - NOVEMBER 3, 2019 at 1:45 A.M.**  
_*shuffling noises*_ "-eriously Bev, FUCK OFF"

"Eddie, give me the phone!"

**Voicemail 5 - NOVEMBER 3, 2019 at 1:50 A.M.**  
"The lovely Beverly Marsh would like me to tell you she says 'hi' and that she's not condoning my bullshit ... but guess what, bitch? I don't need anyone to condo my bull-" _*hiccup*_ "-shit. Oh no. Oh fuck. How do I get rid of hiccups? BEV-"

**Voicemail 6 - NOVEMBER 3, 2019 at 1:53 A.M.**  
_*hiccup*_ "-ou think you're the only fuckin person in the universe, you think you're hot shit. I'M hot shit. I've kissed like, A LOT of dudes tonight, how about that?! Okay? They're all buying me shots and shit and one guy even picked me up. Remember when you did that? Guess what, other guys can do that too! You're not fucking special-"

**Voicemail 7 - NOVEMBER 3, 2019 at 1:54 A.M.**  
"Richie, it's Bev ... Hi, I'm sorry we haven't talked in a while." _*bass rumbles from a song change in the background*_ "Listen, I'm sorry about Eddie. He's upset about something you posted on Instagram earlier today, I didn't see it, so I don't know what he's pissed about. I dunno, it's none of my business, but he's just drunk and being stupid. I'll try to get him to stop calling you ... Um, so, ... I hope you're doing okay! Like I said, I'm sorry we haven't, like, talked or anything in a while but I'd love to catch up! Maybe you can come visit NYU sometime? I mean, you can visit ME. I don't mean-" _*a loud, drunk yell*_ "It'd just be nice to see you, Rich. Tell Stan I said 'hi.' Text me!"

**Voicemail 8 - NOVEMBER 3, 2019 at 1:56 A.M.**  
"Hey dipshit your voicemail keeps cutting me off, what the fuck?"

**Voicemail 9 - NOVEMBER3, 2019 at 2:18 A.M.**  
_*silence*_ ... _*a deep breath*_ ... _*shuffling*_

**Voicemail 10 - NOVEMBER 3, 2019 at 2:20 A.M.**  
_*club music and background noise is gone*_ _*frustrated groan*_ ... "It's just so fuckin' easy for you to just MOVE ON, huh? Fucking bullshit. Mr. ‘I Love You But Long Distance Never Works.' Mr. 'Oh But This Guys Got Great Hair I'll Fuck Him.' He's ugly, by the way. All the guys you go to school with look fucking ugly online. And you know that I don't make shit up when I drink tequila, I just get more honest, so those fuckbois are ugly as hell-"

**Voicemail 11 - **NOVEMBER** 3, 2019 at 2:23 A.M.**  
"I guess the best part of living far, far away from you is forgetting what you look like. Are you even still cute? You might be ugly, now too." _*quiet shuffling*_ ... _*tapping noises*_ "I still got the pics you sent me ... I probably should have deleted them, but I guess I figured if I needed to have ammo ready in case you decided to be a dickhead-"_  
_

**Voicemail 12 - **NOVEMBER** 3, 2019 at 2:26 A.M.**  
"Fuck... I forgot..." _*muffled noises*_ ... _*a deep, throaty breath*_ "**Fuck**..."_  
_

**Voicemail 13 - **NOVEMBER** 3, 2019 at 2:50 A.M.**  
"Richie, I... I'm sorry ... This just ... Sucks." _*a deep breath*_ ... _*quiet shuffling*_ "I don't think it's worth anything now and I've gotta-" _*cough*_

**Voicemail 14 - **NOVEMBER** 3, 2019 at 3:14 A.M.**  
_*clears throat*_ "...Well, I feel a little bit better after throwing up ... I'm also now realizing some of the horrible shit I've said tonight, so if you stopped listening to these voicemails, I'd understand ... But I'm just ... This is really hard. And I saw that photo of that fuckin guy, and you have your arm around him-"

**Voicemail 15 - **NOVEMBER** 3, 2019 at 3:15 A.M.**  
"Dude, seriously, what the fuck is your voicemail's problem? It keeps cutting me off. I'm trying to open up here."

**Voicemail 16 - **NOVEMBER** 3, 2019 at 3:28 A.M.**  
_*deep breath*_ "I'm sorry. This is stupid ... Bye, Rich."

**Voicemail 17 - **NOVEMBER** 3, 2019 at 3:57 A.M.**  
_*quiet sob*_ "I just... I wish I never met you, sometimes." _*sniffle*_ "Because now I always compare everyone to you ... And you're gone, we're done, like I get it. But it just sucks ... I really wish I could just like, ‘unfuck' you. You're all I can think about when I - ... I hate that I miss you so much. I hate that I drank so much and got so fuckin- ugh, god, I kissed strangers."

**Voicemail 18 - **NOVEMBER** 3, 2019 at 4:01 A.M.**  
"This is gonna be the biggest regret of my fucking life, leaving you 300 voicemails. Please delete all of this."

**Voicemail 19 - NOVEMBER 3, 2019 at 4:31 A.M.**  
"Yeah, jus-" _*soft thuds*_ "Just tell him-" _*gentle taps*_

"Rich? It's Bev again. Hey, so. I'm with Eddie now, I'm making sure he gets to bed and doesn't choke on his own puke. He said he's really sorry. Um, but yeah, please don't humiliate him? He's kind of an emotional mess. Sorry again." _*shuffling noises*_ "FOR FUCK'S SAKE EDDIE**!** How many voicemails did you leave him? He'll probably send the police looking for us-"

**[End of messages. To save messages, press-] *beep***

**[Messages saved.]**

* * *

Eddie's head is pounding as his ears recognize the familiar digital noise ringing next to him. He instinctively picks up his phone and checks his screen.

***Facetime Request from Richie Tozier***

He thinks he might throw up. He leans himself up on his elbows, leaving his blanket to cover himself.

***Accept*** and the video call connects.

"...Before you say anything, I'm paying for it dearly." Eddie groans.

His eyes focus on the figure on his screen. It's obnoxiously close and familiar and makes Eddie ashamed of himself. Richie doesn't say anything. He just raises his eyebrows and waits for Eddie to say... something?

"And... I'm sorry, Rich." Eddie rubs sleep from his eyes and feels a strong ache developing in his skull. "I'm an asshole. I'm really sorry. I'll leave you alone forever now, bye-"

"_Eddie!_" Richie interrupts ferociously, the camera shaking. "_You left me. Almost 20 voicemails._ What the fuck is your problem? Do you understand that when you leave a ton of voicemails for someone, they're gonna think you're dead? Or kidnapped? Or _trapped under a fallen vending machine_, or some shit?!"

"Okay well, if I was kidnapped, it wouldn't have done me any good. You didn't answer."

Richie scoffs and pinches the bridge of his nose. "_Okay, well, FUCK OFF_. First of all, you really think this would go any better if you'd talked to me?"

Eddie swallows. "...No."

"_And SECONDLY_, I left my phone at Stan's house. We watched 'Zombeavers' and I had my phone on silent."

"...What the hell is '_Zombeavers_?'"

"_EDDIE ARE YOU FUCKING SERIOUS?! Don't ever fucking do that to me again!_" Richie shouts and brushes his curls away from his face. "Your sloppy ass should be grateful that Beverly was taking care of you. I talked to her this morning."

Eddie swipes down on his screen to check the time. **1:01 p.m.**

"Goddamn it." Eddie moans. His head is the swampiest he's ever felt. Like his brain is sloshing around in alcohol. He gags visibly at the thought.

"Whatever you're feeling, you deserve ten times worse, asshole."

Eddie wipes his mouth and fidgets with his hair, brushing it away from his increasingly warm face. "Okay, I get it. I'm fucking sorry." He can feel tears forming behind his eyes. "I'm sorry, I was a drunk idiot. I was a jealous asshole and I need to mind my own fucking business."

Richie doesn't respond.

Eddie wants the conversation to end. He can't stand looking at Richie, let alone deal with upsetting him like this. So he prepares to hang up as fast as he can say goodbye-

"He's not my boyfriend."

"What?"

Richie sighs. "The guy in the Instagram photo isn't my boyfriend, I haven't hooked up with him or anything. He's Stan's roommate. He's also extremely straight."

"Oh."

"Like, next level hetero. Annoyingly hetero. I really like making him uncomfortable."

Well, if Eddie didn't feel ashamed before, he sure fuckin does now.

"...Oh."

"Yep. So, uh. Nothing to get jealous over, Eds."

Eddie rolls his eyes. "Still with that? Can you stop calling me Eds?"

Richie's face twists in disbelief. "You have _no room_ to tell me to stop anything right now."

"...Fair enough. I'm sorry, though. For being jealous."

Richie pauses. "It's okay. A lot of the guys I go to school with are pretty ugly." He leans away from the phone and shouts, "STANLEY INCLUDED!"

Eddie hears an echoed, "FUCK YOUUUU," from a voice somewhere behind Richie, who laughs proudly.

Eddie tries to smile, but he's still empty.

"You have plenty of 'hot dudes' to keep you company, sounds like." Richie says in a less-than-thrilled tone.

"Ugh. I didn't actually make out with anyone. I think I kissed some guys on their cheeks?" Eddie says without looking back at his phone. "They bought me shots and tried to hit on me, but I don't want to exchange saliva with strangers. I think I exaggerated in the voicemails."

"Well, you always compare them to me, right? To the Trashmouth?"

Eddie's own words are restored in his memory. "Jesus christ, I-"

"It's okay, Eds. After my rage subsided and I talked to Bev and figured out that you were okay, I actually admired the honesty."

Eddie can't help but laugh mockingly at himself. "Yeah, that's me. Super honest. To a fault."

Richie smiles. "Bev and I talked about hanging out next weekend. Got any plans?"

Eddie's eyebrow twitches and he looks back to his screen. "What?"

"I'm gonna come up next weekend. Bev invited me to stay with you guys. I've never been to New York." Richie shrugs.

Eddie can't form words. He almost forgets that Richie can see him right now via digital video. He shouldn't want to see Richie, but he does. He knows it now. It's out of his mouth, out there in the universe. Fuck, it's recorded in _digital audio format_.

"Are you free?"

"I uh..." Eddie stutters. "Yeah. Yeah, I- I free."

Richie laughs. "You're still cute as can be, Eds." His smile is sickeningly sweet.

Eddie lets a smile show on his face for a half-second, then presses his lips into a firm line. "Don't call me Eds."

Richie's expression changes immediately. "_Oh! By the way!_" He's wearing a sleazy grin. "You kept pictures of me? ...Like, _those_ pictures?"

Eddie has to take a moment to remember.

His face immediately goes neon red at the memory of resurfacing sext pictures and dick pics of Richie that they'd shared their senior years at Derry High School. He'd dug them up in his photo stream and... looked... too long at them. He can't help but slap his own hand across his expression.

"Dude!" Richie laughs and is fixated on Eddie's reaction. "Are you serious? You kept those? I thought I was an asshole for keeping a photo of you _shirtless_. You kept pictures of my dick?"

"Okay." Eddie tries to punctuate the conversation.

"What else? I think I remember sending you my ass a couple times."

"Alright, Rich. Don't rub it in. I'm not proud of what I did."

Richie pauses. "What do you mean 'what you did?'"

Eddie feels like he might drop dead from self-inflicted humiliation. He tries desperately to think of a deflect-

"Eddie Kaspbrak..." Richie's breath hitches in his throat. "Did you jerk off between voicemails?"

"Okay Rich, I'm sorry again about all the voicemails. But we're good now, right?" Eddie insists.

"_DID YOU JERK OFF TO PHOTOS OF ME?_" Richie yells, giant grin on his face and his eyes going dark. There's a muffled, "_What the fuck?_" that comes from Stanley somewhere in the background, and Eddie is going to throw himself into oncoming traffic because certain death is better than the absolute tormenting embarrassment of this situation.

"You'll figure everything out with Bev and we'll see you next weekend, yeah?" Eddie nods, trying to end his misery.

"Hey! What the fuck! All I have is a shirtless pic to work off of, you've got like, Spielberg angles on my anatomy!" Richie chuckles. "Send me some new material, fucker!"

"Wow. Oh my god. Okay, good to talk to you, Rich."

"Eddie." Richie says, softer.

"Yeah?"

"_Text me_ next time?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You may be wondering, so what kind of phone does Richie have that has an old-ass voicemail system???? IDK dude????? ITS AN IPHONE B.C. I GUESS????
> 
> Next chapter: The heartbreaking tale of the breakup. Much angst. BREAK UP. Hurt. Cry.
> 
> [ agentkgent.tumblr.com ]
> 
> Quick note: This fic somehow became very HEAVY on the underage drinking... lots of drunk shenanigans. Nothing bad, just a lot of drunk conversations and activity. Because that's what college was for me... When we got together, we DRANK. A lot. And we had intimate fun and friendship and foolishness all while drunk.


	2. So let me go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We know that Eddie misses Richie since they went their separate ways after high school graduation. We know that Eddie gets jealous about Richie's Instagram posts with cute guys. We know that Richie still has some kind of feelings for Eddie and is coming up to visit NYU soon. All of this begs the question... why did they break up in the first place? (Past, pre-voicemails)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by Years & Years "King" - https://youtu.be/g_uoH6hJilc
> 
> I was not planning AT ALL to make this a connected series, but I might be able to make it work... I'm intrigued about the concept of Richie and Eddie breaking up before college, even though they really didn't want to. The reasons? The feelings? The angst? The WANT?? >>> THIS IS A PREQUEL TO THE PREVIOUS CHAPTER. AND IM SAD TO SAY IT DONT END WELL, YALL. But it's cool, because we know they're gonna reconnect so like, this is all just for angst and such.

**SPAGHETTI ❤** | 4/2/19 at 1:11 P.M. | **Rich!!!! findme in the hall outside after class!**

**SPAGHETTI ❤** | 4/2/19 at 1:11 P.M. |** holy fuckin gshit!!**

**Sent** | 4/2/19 at 1:13 P.M. |** jeez louise eds, you need my dick that badly?? :)))**

**SPAGHETTI ❤** | 4/2/19 at 1:19 P.M. | **lol believe it or not this is 10x more exciting than ur sad excuse of a dick**

**Sent** | 4/2/19 at 1:20 P.M. | **:O RUDE**

Richie knows that Eddie Kaspbrak likes his dick quite a bit, actually. So NICE TRY, but no one's buying it, Eds.

Class will be over in 25 minutes, and then he will find his super cute, super excitable boyfriend in the hallway. Eddie is just a couple rooms down in Mr. Bailey's class. They have their math classes at the same time, and its Richie's favorite part of the day- walking together and having the extra time between periods to hold hands and tease each other with snide comments.

They'd been official for about a year and six months. Best year and a half of Richie's life. There was nothing graceful about their start - fumbling around, wrestling at sleepovers, accidentally bumping their semi-boners against each other in front of the rest of the Losers. Then, they'd started hanging out solo-style, sneaking into each other's bedrooms at night to... "read comics," when really it came down to getting as physically close to each other as possible. Nothing dirty, just wanting that intimacy. Cuddling, and such. The longer it went on (way too long, they both agreed) the more they realized that their affection was more than platonic. It was difficult for either of them to make the leap, but Richie went for it. After he'd placed a quick peck to Eddie's mouth, leaving the shorter boy speechless, Richie decided it was then or never. "I like you, Eds. More than anyone else. I don't know what the fuck to call it. I guess I 'like-like' you," he'd managed to spit out.

Weird, aimless emotional puzzle pieces in Richie's mind all fell into place after Eddie had said the words, "I like-like you too." And they'd barely spent any time apart since.

Richie really doesn't have to focus too much in math. He was already light years ahead of his classmates. Matter of fact, he'd already completed all his math credits to graduate with an Honors Degree. This could've been a free period... but he wanted to sync his schedule with his boyfriend, so whatever. His mind wanders trying to figure out what has got said boyfriend in such an enthralled state.

Just as good as the companionship and romance, though, was the fooling around. Eddie's cute pink, flushed face; his lips when they were all shiny and puffy from making out; his pale skin that couldn't hide evidence of any kind of scratching or pulling or pushing, always left beat red from Richie's hands and mouth; the fucking gorgeous noises that Eddie made when Richie filled him. GOD, the sex. (All those 'aimless puzzle pieces on Richie's mind'? Yeah, mix a shit-ton of teenage boy hormones in there too.) There is nothing in this whole shitty world that made him feel more alive. If Eddie's body was somehow poisonous to him, Richie knows that he would die a very stupid but NECESSARY death.

He can feel himself getting semi-hard at the concept of a between-classes blowjob in the bathroom. _Please dear sweet Jesus, let it be a between-classes blowjob in the bathroom._

After an agonizing 25 minutes and adjusting the painful tightness in his pants, Richie made a move for the door the instant the bell sounded. Eddie is already in the hallway waiting just outside the door, and he can't help but grab Eddie into a very tight hug right away. Eddie stumbles slightly, adjusting his jacket and in-arm books to make room for Richie against his chest.

"I got in, Rich!" Eddie mumbled against Richie's chest.

"I think I would feel it if you were in me already, Eds." He says, just loud enough for Eddie to hear.

At that, Eddie notices the slight-boner bumping against his groin and takes a half step back. "Really? You're a fucking horndog."

Richie chuckles and pulls at the crotch of his pants to adjust. "Sorry, man! You were vague! It's kind of all I think about 90 percent of the time, anyway!"

Eddie rolls his eyes but a smile forms on his face, also. He glances over his shoulder, adjusts his backpack, and then takes Richie's hand. They navigate through mobs of their classmates to the nearest bathroom.

...

Earlier in his life, Eddie would've probably been totally against making out in bathrooms. But Richie prided himself on being able to help Eddie see any setting as a perfect romantic location.

Their backpacks and belongings are strewn across the floor just inside the bathroom door. Richie's hands are running rampant on Eddie's body, which is pressed against the bathroom wall. Their mouths are practically glued together, moving and panting and wet. Their breathing is wild and unsteady and _God Richie is glad he figured out how to lock school bathrooms, because he could stay in here forever._ His boner is now demanding attention, full and hard and pinned against Eddie's own crotch.

Eddie smiles against Richie's mouth and giggles. _Music to Richie's ears._ "Take off your pants," he says between kisses.

"Are you serious right now?" Richie asks like it's Christmas morning.

Instead of answering, Eddie kisses him deeply, hands tugging at Richie's jean buttons, and Richie does not need to be told twice. Before he knows it, his back is now against the bathroom wall, two hands holding him securely in place at the thighs, and his _absolutely amazing gorgeous cute sweet sexy boyfriend_ has his mouth on his dick and the prophecy has been fulfilled.

...

"Richie, you good?" Eddie asks from near the running bathroom sink.

He can barely reform his brain to respond. "I've never felt more terrible in my entire life," He jokes as he tucks himself back into his boxers, then pulling up his jeans, limp and spent.

Eddie pulls some paper towel to dry his hands and then brings one to Rich, where he wipes softly at a couple spots on the lap of his jeans.

He hisses at the over-sensitivity. "Dude!"

"You just had a little bit on your clothes, sorry."

Richie wraps his fingers around Eddie's wrist to stop him. "We don't need to clean up yet, I can do you."

Eddie's smile widens across his blushing face. "No, I'm ok. Maybe later." His smile is glowing, his eyes distracted by whatever he's thinking.

Richie is over the moon for this boy. "Come here." And he pulls him flush against his chest, warm and sedated and soft. He pets Eddie's hair and strokes it away from his face, some of the gel releasing and freeing a few dark curls.

"Richie, I wanted to tell you."

"Hmm?" Richie refocuses. "Oh, right. What's the exciting news?"

"I met with Janice last period. I'm accepted to NYU!"

Richie freezes and they lock eyes. "I thought... Wait, I thought you were on the waiting list?"

"I was!" Eddie's voice is so genuinely happy, he's waiting for Richie to be just as happy. "But she contacted admissions and told them that my dad was alumni, and they bumped me up the list! I'm in!"

Richie's brain... is stuck.

"You had your high school guidance counselor sweet talk them into letting you in?"

Eddie's smile is slightly fractured. "No, like... My dad actually did go there, and they accept alumni more than other applicants."

Richie doesn't respond, he just stares.

"So..." Eddie starts, eyebrows furrowed. "I got into my dream school. Any thoughts on that?" He says sarcastically.

Richie composes himself.

"Eddie... That's fuckin amazing. Congratulations." And he puts on the best fake smile he can manage and pulls Eddie into a tight hug.

"Have _you_ heard anything from them yet?" Eddie asks against Richie's neck.

Richie clears his throat. "I'm sure they'll be calling me this week, especially if they're accepting dweebs like you."

Eddie punches gently against his chest and gives a small laugh.

"You'll get in, Rich."

* * *

Richie does not get in to NYU.

He'd waited and waited and checked his mailbox everyday and checked his voicemails and asked his guidance counselor, who called and checked on the status of his application multiple times. It had stayed "Under Review," and wasn't even cleared for the waiting list, yet... which meant... He didn't get in.

He pretends to have been told he was placed on the waiting list when Eddie asks for a status update. He then does his absolute best to distract Eddie with a full tongue of Tozier. Maybe to distract himself, too.

Richie'd gotten accepted into all schools he applied for _on time_. NYU was not one of them. He'd spent all his time with Eddie, Stan, Bill, Mike, Ben, and Bev; helped them with their applications. What he didn't realize is that New York University had an accelerated application deadline compared to other Eastern coast schools.

He'd ruined his future plans by simply missing a deadline by a few months.

Eddie's mother had pushed him into applying for college in August of his final high school year. It had felt so early at the time, like they still had a whole year to figure things out and make decisions. Mrs. Kaspbrak had hoped for Eddie to get into some closer-to-home schools, smaller campuses, rural or suburban places where he'd be safer. Eddie's focus was almost exclusively, though, on NYU and pursuing a life of anything different than the familiarity of life in Derry.

Once he knew he was getting into NYU, Eddie's plans clicked into exactly what he'd been hoping for for years. He looked forward to graduating from high school. He looked forward to leaving Derry, and hopefully never returning. No more "I'll be back before dark, mommy" bullshit. No more placebos. No more bitchy pharmacist's daughters. Culture and music and food and more amazing things were waiting in New York. As well as a chance to experience what his late father had lived in.

Also, Beverly Marsh was attending NYU thanks to her wealthy aunt (who they suspected just wanted Bev out of the house.) Eddie had been absolutely ecstatic when Bev agreed to live with him in the Big Apple. Eddie figured Richie wouldn't get accepted in time to sign a lease or anything, so they'd have to wait a year or two before they can move in together. But they'd help Richie find a cool roommate, and hopefully not too far away, that way they can stay at each other's places all the time; even if it's just a 15 minute subway ride!

He knows that New York is everything Eddie has wanted for _years_.

And Richie will be damned if he ruins that.

* * *

**Sent** | 5/1/19 at 7:59 P.M. | **So youre set on u of richmond, stan?**

**Stanley is a dickface** | 5/1/19 at 8:10 P.M. | **...yeah i think so :)**

**Stanley is a dickface** | 5/1/19 at 8:12 P.M. | **Y did you make up your mind yet?**

****Sent**** | 5/1/19 at 8:20 P.M. | ****Yeah... i think im gonna go ther too****

Stanley Uris had aimed for something far away from Derry, too. Far enough away from his pushy father. He'd wanted a variety of options, heading in an undeclared major.

**Stanley is a dickface** | 5/1/19 at 8:23 P.M. | **Well thats awesome man but**

****Stanley is a dickface**** | 5/1/19 at 8:23 P.M. | **Eddie's still going to nyc right**

****Stanley is a dickface**** | 5/1/19 at 8:26 P.M. |** R u guys gonna try long distannce?**

****Stanley is a dickface**** | 5/1/19 at 8:27 P.M. | **Have you told him yet**

****Stanley is a dickface**** | 5/1/19 at 9:40 P.M. | ****Rich?****

* * *

Richie had made up his mind.

He was not going to NYU, he didn't get in. But that's okay because he didn't want to go to NYU. He didn't want to live in New York.

He wanted to go further away from Derry, to Virginia. University of Richmond had a great sociology program and some amazing student-ran programs, like an improv group and independent theater.

He wanted to go to Richmond with his best friend Stan, where they'd have drunk adventures and hook up with girls and meet more bros to add to their shenanigans (much against Stan's will.)

He absolutely did not want to go to New York.

He absolutely did not want to go to New York with Eddie.

He absolutely did not want to be with Eddie long-distance.

He... did not... want to be... with-

He feels like he might throw up.

**Sent** | 5/3/19 at 10:00 A.M. |** Hey eds i need you to meet me ou tback during lunch**

**SPAGHETTI ❤** | 5/3/19 at 10:11 A.M. | **The bathroom up the hall would probly b more private ;)**

**Sent** | 5/3/19 at 10:25 A.M. | ****Lol****

****SPAGHETTI ❤**** | 5/3/19 at 10:31 A.M. | **U ok?**

****Sent**** | 5/3/19 at 10:39 A.M. | ******Yeah! I'll see u by the back door******

Richie's hand almost goes numb at how tightly he's gripping the door handle. He can't stand there forever for a lot of reasons, but the biggest being that an adult will spot him and stop him from meeting Eddie outside if he doesn't move soon. It takes every ounce of strength he has to move forward.

"Hey Trashmouth," Eddie greets him quietly.

Richie steps closer, but doesn't touch. "Hey Eds."

Eddie exhales dramatically. "Don't call me Eds, dick."

He doesn't have a retort, and he avoids eye contact. "Sorry Eddie."

Eddie's expression softens and he takes a step forward. "Whats going on? You okay?"

He'd naturally want to close the gap, but Richie stays still. He clears his throat before he finally looks up. "Yeah. I got into University of Richmond."

Eddie pauses, his eyebrows raise. "Oh."

Richie doesn't want to watch his expressions change, so he looks at his feet.

It takes Eddie a few moments to speak again. "I didn't know you applied for University of Richmond."

"Yeah I did. Uh..." He swallows. "Stan is going, too."

Richie doesn't have to make eye contact with Eddie to feel the shift in the air.

"You're _going_? Like, for sure?"

Richie scratches at the back of his neck. "Yeah, I have orientation in a few weeks."

Silence.

Very heavy silence. Richie pushes up his glasses mindlessly.

"Okay." Eddie barely says. "Well... would you consider transferring to New York eventually? Maybe after a couple years?"

Richie looks up now, confused.

"I mean, I can put off New York for a little bit, but-" Eddie continues, visibly stressed.

"Wait, what?" Richie tries to calm him.

"Well I need to check and see if I was accepted to U of Richmond, too, I got a bunch of letters late last year, maybe there's-"

"Eddie, hold on-"

"Well, just like, eventually I need to go to New York." Eddie's trying to explain, and his pace is quickening. "So maybe we can trade off, do two years in Richmond, then we can go up to NYU for two years-"

"I'm not going to New York." Richie states firmly.

Eddie looks taken aback.

This is the part that Richie is dreading the most.

"Okay, well." Eddie is at a loss for words. "Well then I guess I'll have to back out of my lease with Bev."

"Eds, you're not hearing me."

"Rich, we should have fucking talked about Richmond's programs, I don't even know-"

"Eddie!" Richie interrupts and locks eyes with him. "You're going to New York, okay? It's done. I'm going to Virginia. It's done."

Eddie's jaw hangs open, his eyes searching for a solution in Richie's.

"Well, maybe we can-"

"I don't think we can."

Eddie's cheeks are turning red, his eyes are getting glassy. "How the fuck would you know? We haven't even talked about it, asshole!" His volume increasing.

"Long distance doesn't work, Eds." His eyes flick up to Eddie then back to his feet.

"If you didn't want to _fucking_ go to _fucking_ New York, you could have just _fucking_ told me. I could have planned to go to _fucking_ Richmond with you." He's almost yelling.

"I just think we-" Richie tries, speaking louder now, too.

"Why wouldn't long distance work? We can Facetime and shit! It's fucking 2019," He's not crying yet, but Eddie has angry tears sitting in his eyes.

"_I just want this to be done._" Richie declares with the best possible poker face he can summon.

The two stand quietly for what feels like hours. Eddie is staring holes into Richie's head, but Richie refuses to meet those beautiful, sad eyes.

"You... you just want to break up?" Eddie says with a tight throat, his voice breaking.

"It's easier if we do it now."

"Richie," Eddie squeaks.

"You're super hot, Eds, it's not like there's _no guys_ in New York. You'll definitely find someone like, right away." The words taste like vinegar leaving his tongue.

Eddie's outwardly crying now. "_Why the FUCK would you say that?_"

His insides feel like they're burning. Every instinct in his body is screaming to _FIX IT, FIX IT, FIX WHAT YOU'VE DONE, MAKE HIM STOP CRYING_, but he's made up his mind and he has to finish this. It's what's best for Eddie. New York is what is best for Eddie. Following his dreams at NYU is what is best for Eddie. Following Richie 'Trashmouth' Tozier around the country is not what's best for Eddie.

He barely manages to look Eddie in the eye. "Don't you want to meet other dudes? Like, aren't you tired of fucking around with the only other gay kid in Derry?"

And that's it.

Eddie chokes out a clear, defined sob before reeling back and punching Richie square in the jaw. He sees stars for a brief moment before the crash against pavement brings him back to reality. A few spots of blood are on the ground next to his head. He hears the building's door slam shut behind him. And Eddie's gone.

* * *

**Baddest beech in derry** | 5/3/19 at 4:16 P.M. | **Wtf is going on???? U broke up w/ eddie?**

**Stanley is a dickface** | 5/3/19 at 4:17 P.M. | **Okay so youve officially lost your mind**

**HayyyyySTACK** | 5/3/19 at 4:17 P.M. | **Dude whats going on? U can talk to me**

**Sir Billiam** | 5/3/19 at 4:28 P.M. | **Richie?????? What the hell**

**Mikemikemikemikemike** | 5/3/19 at 4:30 P.M. | **Are you okay? Whats going on?**

**Baddest beech in derry** | 5/3/19 at 7:02 P.M. | ****We're going to taco bell, come with us?****

****Baddest beech in derry**** | 5/3/19 at 7:10 P.M. | ****Talk to me rich****

Richie throws his phone onto his nightstand without responding.

He pulls on his coziest hoodie and climbs into bed, wrapping himself up in blankets. He tries not to think about how some remnant scent of Eddie's shampoo lingers there.

Eddie will go to New York, like he was always supposed to, and be happy. He might not need to ever come back to Derry again. He might never have to see Richie again.

And Richie cries.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Up: Returning to the present, in which Richie needs to mentally prepare for New York
> 
> [ agentkgent.tumblr.com ]


	3. Redeem, oh redeem

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Richie POV chapter, the week leading up to the big trip to NYC. (Present and post-voicemails) Richie misinterprets the situation as an opening from Eddie... and he's beginning to deal with the consequences of his mistakes and general jackass-ery.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by Justin Bieber's "Sorry" - https://youtu.be/fRh_vgS2dFE
> 
> Stanley is my absolute favorite Loser, I think he has the funniest personality and so much potential... So, this chapter is slightly indulgent on Stanley, the ideal bff who deserves the entire freaking world

**Eds Kaspbrak** | 11/3/19 at 1:50 P.M. | **Please please please i am begging u pls delete those voicemails**

**Sent** | 11/3/19 at 2:00 P.M. |** Idk**

**Sent** | 11/3/19 at 2:02 P.M. | **I'm thinking about keeping them forever**

****Eds Kaspbrak**** | 11/3/19 at 2:05 P.M. | **Ur a piece of shit**

**Sent** | 11/3/19 at 2:10 P.M. | **Igotta at least keep them so stan and bev can hear, i'll delete them after ;)**

"Do I even want to know?" Stan asks.

Richie's grin is so wide, it almost hurts. "You _know_ you wanna know."

"Ew," Stan responds wisely, and turns his attention to his phone screen.

They're in Stan's living room now, sitting on an over-sized and smelly couch, in the middle of a ridiculously disheveled home of three boys. The television's volume is low, playing reruns of _The Office_. Richie assumes that Stan's roommates stayed with their girlfriends in their respective apartments. It was kind of nice, actually, that Stan's house was comfy and open and empty 80% of the time. A nice change from his tiny, lonely studio apartment down the block.

He spares his friend the details. "You're coming with me to New York next weekend."

Stan looks back up from his phone. "What?"

"Bev wants us to come to New York City and get drunk, so we're gonna head up Friday." As if that's the only reason he wants to go.

Stan blinks dramatically and looks back at his phone. "No thanks."

"Not up for debate, bird boy."

He's got Stan's full attention now and has to block a punch. "Shut up Richie, why do _I_ have to come?"

Richie makes a scandalized face. "Stanley. First of all," He places a hand on his chest as if to enunciate. "They're our very dearest friends."

"I know that they're..." Stan pauses and searches his friend's expression. "_They_, huh?"

"Beverly and Edward."

Stan's eyebrow quirks up at the mention of Eddie's name. Richie ignores it.

"And second of all..."

Stan waits.

He blinks, his smile stretching, eyes squinting.

Stan urges him on.

"I need to borrow you car." He finishes.

Stan rolls his eyes, but knows it has absolutely no effect. Richie loves getting an eye-roll from his curly friend. "I hate you." Stan states.

"Please?" He pleads genuinely.

Stan looks at him, considering. Richie puts on the most pitiful, puppy-eyed face he can conjure. Stan sighs in defeat, turning attention back to his phone. "How long is the drive?"

He flies out of his seat to tackle an irritated Stanley Uris in a hug.

**Sent** | 11/3/19 at 2:31 P.M. | **Stans in and we'll head up on friday!**

**Baddest beech in NYC** | 11/3/19 at 2:34 P.M. | **YAY! OMG IM SO EXCITED DUDE**

**Baddest beech in NYC** | 11/3/19 at 2:35 P.M. | ****Be sure to watch for tolls, you'll have to make a few stops on the way in****

****Sent**** | 11/3/19 at 2:36 P.M. | ******What the fuck? Tolls******

******Baddest beech in NYC****** | 11/3/19 at 2:37 P.M. | ********Hav you never paid tolls on the highway before?********

********Sent******** | 11/3/19 at 2:37 P.M. | **************We're from derry, bev**************

_**Stanley is a dickface** was added to the conversation_

******Baddest beech in NYC****** | 11/3/19 at 2:40 P.M. | **Stan, you know how to pay tolls right?**

**Stanley is a dickface** | 11/3/19 at 2:45 P.M. | **Yes i know how to pay tolls we got it under control**

****Baddest beech in NYC**** | 11/3/19 at 2:46 P.M. | ****Ok cool just have like at least 20 cash on hand****

********Sent******** | 11/3/19 at 2:46 P.M. | **********************HES FUCKING LYING**********************

**********************Sent********************** | 11/3/19 at 2:46 P.M. | **********************HE HAD TO GOOGLE IT BEV, HE DOESNT KNOW SHIT**********************

* * *

It's Monday.

Richie's attention is fading in and out while he sits in _American History 100_. The subject matter is the same material they'd learned ten times over throughout high school, so he really doesn't have to be here... The reason he _is_ is because the lecturer kept attendance records - the only factor thwarting Richie's morning laziness.

Class concludes at 12:45 P.M. on the dot and he's moseying into the hall, lunch-bound.

He pulls his earpods from his pocket and plants them in his ears, when someone pulls gently on his jacket sleeve. "Hey Richie," a soft voice calls out. He glances over his shoulder in the direction of the tug, locking eyes with a cute girl he'd seen at Stan's house a few times. She's blonde and pale and practically perfect in her doll-like outfit. Her smile is sweet and endearing, and she holds it while waving subtly.

"Hey," He echoes, but he doesn't remember her name, so he sticks to a friendly wave. He thinks maybe he's seen her hugging one of Stan's roommate's girlfriends, less drunk and less obnoxious than the other guests. She's rocking an oversized sweater, black skirtall, and classic pair of Vans, an effortlessly stylish outfit. She's adorable.

He loves getting attention from potential hook-ups. Any other day, he'd fixate on her. But he can't admit that without thinking of his favorite drunk-dialer. He moves to the building's exit, pulls out his phone and selects **_Eds Kaspbrak_** from his recent call list.

...

"...Yes?" A low voice says in his earpods.

"Hello to you, too, sunshine." Richie teases.

"What do you want, Richie?" Eddie huffs, loud, metallic noises in the background.

His confidence is cut slightly by Eddie's tone. "How you feeling?"

Eddie takes a deep breath. "Not hungover, but still shitty. Thanks for asking." He says curtly.

"You are _so_ welcome. How am I?" Richie says mockingly. "I'm doing well, also. Thank _YOU_ for asking."

"Did you delete the voicemails?"

"Eds, we've moved on. That was like, forever ago." He's trying to keep the conversation light because Eddie does NOT sound happy, and he wants to stay on the phone with him as long as possible. Something about the events of the past weekend had reawakened his need for Eddie's attention.

"It's been like 24 hours, jerkoff."

"So you've learned to restrain yourself?"

"...What?"

"It's been 24 hours since you jerked off?" Eddie doesn't respond. He can hear more city noise in the background, but no Eddie. The silence goes longer than he's comfortable with. "You still there?"

"Why are you calling me, Richie?"

It's like a reminder that things are different, now. He can't tease Eddie like he used to in high school. He kind of... lost that privilege. (Not 'lost', as much as he'd smashed it into a million pieces.) He'd almost forgotten because their Facetime chat had felt so natural, so much like they'd always been before he fucked it all up. But that's probably because yesterday Eddie was vulnerable and embarrassed and out of control of the situation. Those were the times Richie saw a more mellow Eddie Kaspbrak. This might not be one of those times.

"Hey listen," Richie begins, voice rattled. "I hope you're not beating yourself up. Shit happens. People get drunk do stupid shit." He adjusts his glasses shakily. "I'm- I'm not calling you stupid, but just don't worry about it, ok?"

Eddie doesn't say anything.

"And," He continues. He's a nervous wreck. "I would like to talk more. I wanna know how you are? How's school, how's New York, all that miscellaneous shit."

"Why?" Eddie says finally.

He's caught off-guard by that. "Because... we're friends?"

"_Are_ we?"

The question hits him hard. He doesn't even know what to say now. "I..."

"No, really Rich," Eddie says coldly. "Are we even friends? We haven't talked in _six months_."

Richie bites the inside of his cheek. He wasn't ready for this conversation and he's his own worst enemy in this moment. "I'm sorry about that- about not talking to you. It was too hard."

"Too _hard_ for you?" Eddie jeers. "And that's not my fault, is it?"

"Eds..."

_"Do not call me Eds."_

_"Eddie!"_ Richie yells, scared of losing him over the phone. A few passerby's give him a look. He brings his volume back down, trying to relay seriousness over the phone. "I'm sorry, okay? I really am. I'm... I'm sorry."

Silence. Eddie is giving him a window to continue.

This is not how Richie wanted to have this conversation. "I'm sorry about how everything ended. It wasn't exactly what I wanted, but... it was kind of the only option."

"Whatever." Eddie scoffs. He doesn't believe Richie, that's clear. And it twists his insides to have to stick to his lie. But that's what he did. He lied about wanting to split, because he could not drag Eddie away from New York with him. It wasn't an option for Eddie not to go to NYU, weighed down by the baggage of a Trashmouth. He couldn't back out of it now. And even if he came clean... he's fairly certain it would make Eddie hate him even more.

There's a loaded quiet moment, the only audio sounds like some kind of shuffling or walking on Eddie's end.

"I can cancel my plans with Bev, Eddie." Richie says, totally defeated.

"Huh?"

"I don't have to come up to New York. I don't want to make this worse."

Eddie makes a frustrated groan. "_No, asshole_, you can come up to New York and hang out with Bev. You are _not_ gonna bail on her. She's too excited."

Richie has walked right past his favorite dining hall, forgetting lunch. His feet are taking him straight to his bed where he knows he'll spend the rest of the day because his mood is crashing. Hard.

"It's okay, Eddie. Maybe Bev can come down here sometime."

"UGH, no." Eddie's got the slightest bit of softness in his voice now. "We don't have a car. Don't worry about me, just... You guys come up on Friday."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, Richie. Come to New York."

"I really don't wanna make this worse." Richie is walking into his apartment, dropping his bag and removing his jacket.

"Well," Eddie starts. "We can talk more... about everything."

Richie's mind re-centers. "We... can?"

He can hear what sounds like a door closing over the phone. Eddie must've just gotten home, too. "I clearly have a deep well of emotional shit that I need to sort out. I would like to avoid drunk-dialing people in the future, if I can help it." There's almost a light tone to his voice.

Richie feels like he might overflow. "I want to talk, too. About everything. More. I want to tell you-"

"Ok well, we can deal with that later, then." Eddie cuts him off. "I'm gonna go. I have some assignments I need to work on."

He clears his throat. "Ok, Eddie." And Eddie doesn't even say goodbye, he just hangs up.

Richie drops onto his bed, not even bothering to dress-down or kick off his shoes.

He _was_ excited to see Eddie... but now? This is somehow worse than before. This was now about Richie's fuck-up and how it put a damper on their NYC visit. This was now weighing on Richie to either admit his reasons and face the consequences of his massive mistake, or continue building upon the giant lie that had changed both of their lives for the better. (The better for Eddie, definitely.) This is Richie's penance for breaking an angel's heart, he thinks to himself.

* * *

It's Wednesday.

_"FOR FUCK'S SAKE EDDIE**!** How many voicemails did you leave him? He'll probably send the police looking for us-"_ The audio finishes, tinny and compressed from his phone's speaker, and Richie closes his voicemail.

Stan is making an uncharacteristically amused face and holding his laughter back. "Holy shit. Who knew Eddie Kaspbrak could be such a hot mess?" It's dinner time, and they're sitting at the local Mexican place.

"I always saw it in 'im." Richie states proudly, but doesn't smile.

"Have you talked to him since Sunday?" Stan asks, dipping into some salsa.

"Uh," He flinches. "Yeah, I called him yesterday. But he was not happy to hear from me."

Stan thinks for a moment while he chews. "Can't blame him."

Richie feels betrayed. "What the fuck, man?"

They usually didn't venture into relationship talk. Stan didn't have enough patience to handle Richie's repressed emotional bullshit, and Richie was okay with that.

Stan gives him a look. "I mean, when you dumped him... It was kind of out of nowhere. It's probably not okay for you to just call him way later, out of the blue, like nothing's wrong."

"Me- _me call him_?" Richie says, appalled. "Did you forget about 40 fuckin minutes of drunk voicemails talking about missing me? After we've been split for half a year. How's that for 'out of the blue'?"

Stan nods, understanding. "I get it, man, but," He pauses. "Just because he got drunk and called you doesn't mean you get to pick up where you left off."

Richie has no retort.

"You broke his heart, Rich. He was a wreck after graduation."

He runs a hand through his curly hair and and sighs heavily. "Yeah." That's Richie's least favorite subject and Stan knows it.

"And, I mean, if you wanna fix it," Stan clears his throat in-between chips. "You need to talk to him. No bullshit."

Richie takes a long sip from his soda. "You think he'll actually forgive me?"

"I don't know, Richie. _I_ didn't break up with him."

"That I know of." He squints jokingly at Stan.

Stan rolls his eyes. "You need to figure it out because I wanna have fun in New York. I don't wanna deal with your fuckery the whole time." He takes a drink from his water.

"No worries, bro," He switches on a terrible New York accent. "We'll definitely snatch up some rachet snatch in the Big Apple, na'mean?"

"Ok." Stan cuts. "Well, if you can fix this whole thing before we get there, that'd be great. Because I don't want an awkward-ass reunion. I wanna hug my friends and then go get drunk."

Richie nods. And Stan's right. Richie wants to fix this sooner rather than later. He wants to be able to hug Eddie, too.

Truthfully, he'd really like to... _Nope._ He can't let his mind go that far. He doesn't deserve that part of a relationship with Eddie anymore.

* * *

It's Thursday.

**Sent** | 11/7/19 at 11:10 P.M. | **Hey what you up to?**

****Eds Kaspbrak**** | 11/7/19 at 11:10 P.M. | **Watching a scary movie. Wbu?**

**Sent** | 11/7/19 at 11:11 P.M. | **Watching bobs burgers. What movie**

****Eds Kaspbrak**** | 11/7/19 at 11:11 P.M. | **Demonic**

**Sent** | 11/7/19 at 11:12 P.M. | **The fuck is that**

****Eds Kaspbrak**** | 11/7/19 at 11:12 P.M. | **Uh........ a very not good movie lol**

****Eds Kaspbrak**** | 11/7/19 at 11:12 P.M. | ****Do not recommend****

******Eds Kaspbrak****** | 11/7/19 at 11:13 P.M. | ********Main character is hot tho********

**Sent** | 11/7/19 at 11:13 P.M. | **Noted**

****Eds Kaspbrak**** | 11/7/19 at 11:32 P.M. | **So wats up?**

****Richie takes a deep breath and types out the words he's struggling to compose.

...

**Sent** | 11/7/19 at 11:40 P.M. | ****Ok im sorry to do this via text but i dont know how i could do this over the phone and i really dont wanna wait til we get to new york. Eds im really sorry for calling you earlier this week. I guess i thoought bc you were ok with talking to me on sunday i could call you an dtry to chat, but i kinda forgot that i screwed up our friendship when i ended things like i did.****

****Sent**** | 11/7/19 at 11:42 P.M. | **Even tho you were drunk, im really glad yo ucalled me because i still love you as a friend and it was really nice to talk to you again. I just want you to know that im sorry for being a jackass. Im excited to see you and bev tomorrow and im looking forward to getting drunk and eating some new york pizza!! :D**

He cringes at his use of "as a friend" and waits for a response.

...

He stares at those three fateful dots, animating and recycling over and over again in the text screen. They disappear all of a sudden. Eddie must have started over on his response. Which means he's indecisive. And it makes Richie's hands shake. This is a mistake. He screwed up again, somehow. The dots reappear for a few moments before the phone beeps.

********Eds Kaspbrak**** | 11/7/19 at 11:50 P.M. | **Thanks for apologizing rich. Its ok, i know how you are and i was just being sensitive.**

******Eds Kaspbrak****** | 11/7/19 at 11:50 P.M. | ********You dont have to be sorry for breaking up or whatever its fine, that was forever ago now and we can work on being friends. This weekend will be great bcuz we'll go out and get drunk and itll be good!********

****************Richie's stomach clenches slightly at the mention of the break-up. The thing Richie wants to apologize a little more earnestly for.

**Sent** | 11/7/19 at 11:55 P.M. | **Cool alright eds ill see you tmrw**

****Eds Kaspbrak**** | 11/7/12 at 11:56 P.M. | **Stan's driving right?**

**Sent** | 11/7/19 at 11:56 P.M. | **Stan the man is driving**

****Eds Kaspbrak**** | 11/7/12 at 11:56 P.M. | ****Good lol. He's the better driver****

**Sent** | 11/7/19 at 11:57 P.M. | **Alright well thats debatable**

****Eds Kaspbrak**** | 11/7/12 at 11:57 P.M. | **Its not :P see you tomorrow rich**

* * *

It's Friday.

Richie and Stanley are a couple hours into the drive, following Stan's Google Directions from his phone. Luckily, they haven't had any traffic issues yet. The weather is pleasant and hazard-free.

"Oh, I forgot," Richie changes from the unimportant subject, with Combo Pretzel Snacks crumbling out of his mouth. "Whats the name of that chick that comes over to your guys' parties?"

"Which chick?" Stan glances from the windshield in his direction. "Ew, dude, swallow first."

He makes a dramatic 'gulp' noise. "I _always_ swallow-"

"_WHICH CHICK_, Richie?" Stan yells over him.

"The cute blonde one?"

Stan goes quiet. "Which 'cute blonde one'?" But Richie has the feeling Stan already knows who he's talking about.

"Uh... the blonde one who's friends with Chuck's girlfriend, I think? Fuckin pale as ice. She dresses like, super super cute, though."

Stan tries to act uninterested. "You mean Patty?" There's too much emphasis for Richie to miss it.

"Patty, huh?" He sings, teasing Stan. "So, I saw _Patty_ after class the other day."

"Good for you." Stan says without looking over, but his cheeks are turning pink.

"Yeah, she said 'hey' to me."

"Neat."

"...And she smiled at me, like a lot."

"Cool."

"And then we fucked behind the Social Studies Building-" Stan punches Richie's bicep hard, and he yelps. "Hey! Chill out!" And Stan's facade is gone. He must like her. And Richie can't resist this chance to make his best friend blush.

"What about Patty, Rich?"

He smiles and rubs his arm. "I mean, she just said 'hey' to me. I didn't remember her, but she's cute." He waits, but Stan doesn't respond. "Have you talked to her?"

Stan looks up at the rear view mirror and sighs. "A little. Not really." There's a brief moment of silence where Stan would normally change the subject, but he continues. "Chuck's girlfriend told her that you're single."

Curveball. "Wait, what?"

Stan continues bitterly. "Yeah. She told Patty that you're single and she should talk to you more. Guess she thinks that you're the more eligible bachelor of the two of us."

Richie frowns. "Weird. I didn't think any of them even liked me that much."

"Yeah well, they like you enough to point the cutest girl in your direction, apparently." And Stan bites both lips and makes a sour expression towards the road.

"Aww, Stanley," Richie puts an arm awkwardly around Stan, the gesture impossible due to their seatbelts and headrests. "We simply need to show the lovely lady that you are the more 'alpha' male, strong and resourceful! We must demonstrate your superiority, and then she'll fall right onto your dick."

"Shut up, Richie."

Richie chuckles to himself and resettles in the passenger seat. "No really, she's cute, but she's not my type. Fair game for you, my baby boy."

Stan sort-of nods before he looks back at Richie in the rear view mirror. "Because she's not Eddie?"

Another conversation curveball. "Excuse me?"

"Are you gonna try to fuck Eddie while we're there? Because I gotta be honest dude,"

"Wait what-"

"You're already getting on my nerves and I won't be able to handle more dramatics from you."

"Stan, I don't-"

"Bullshit. You've been smiling like an idiot all week."

And just like that, Stanley has found the weakness. He's found the key to flipping the most embarrassing conversation and redirecting it at Richie. He had to give it to Stanley, though, he really pulled out the big guns. Which must've meant that he had a big crush on Patty, after all. But who knew that Stanley could be such a _villain_?

Richie's jaw drops. "Dude! I'm not just going to try to _fuck Eddie_, okay? He doesn't even-"

"Rich, I love you, but you're kind of a dumbass."

"What the fuck, man? What is this?"

"Please don't make this trip weird."

"_YOU'RE making the trip weird!_" Richie's hands are pointing at Stan wildly.

"Your dick has been half-hard since Sunday, okay? I'm not blind."

Richie's face is getting hot. "WHAT IS THIS?" And he self-consciously pulls at the crotch of his pants, just in case, and Stanley laughs genuinely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter: Happy Not Knowing ...from Eddie's POV! And leading up to the big NYC reunion :O
> 
> [ agentkgent.tumblr.com ]


	4. Happy not knowing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An Eddie POV chapter, the week leading up to the big trip to NYC. (Present and post-voicemails) Eddie is finally processing the events of the past weekend, and he's fighting with his reactions to Richie's foolishness. Let's not deny that Richie has been an asshole. He broke Eddie's heart. Now Eddie has to learn how to give them a chance to be friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by Carly Rae Jepsen's "Happy Not Knowing" - https://youtu.be/L4YbNztrCIA
> 
> Bev would be the absolute best roommate, and YOU KNOW IT. Enjoy.

It's Sunday.

Eddie joins Beverly in their tiny living room (if that's what you wanna call it) and brings along his ziplock bag of pain and fever reducers and three bottles of water, all while he's wrapped ridiculously in a fluffy fleece blanket.

Bev is watching some terrible horror movie on Netflix, and has apparently been enjoying leftover pizza that may or may not have been from last night. He can't remember eating pizza... ? Maybe she ordered it in after he went to bed. Not a lot of places are open late, though, so- _OW. Okay, no thinking that hard yet. Very hungover._

"How you feeling?" Bev asks sincerely.

A pitiful noise comes from his throat. "Amazing."

Bev snickers. "You want some pizza?"

He leans backward against the couch and closes his eyes. "No thank you."

"You gotta eat something, Eddie."

"I think I'll throw up anything that I try to eat right now, Bev."

He isn't looking at his roommate, but he assumes she's making a face at him. "What, you've never been hungover before?"

"Not like this." Never this bad.

"Uh-huh," She leans closer to him, speaking softly. "I'm gonna assume that's because it's mixed with _humiliation_."

He side-eyes her without moving. "Thank you _so much_ for reminding me. I'd almost fucking forgotten." ...About how he'd actually thrown his dignity and resolve right out the fucking window by leaving Richie Tozier about an hour of blubbering voicemails.

...

"Thanks, Bev."

Bev turns toward him with a warm smile. "You're welcome, my love." She's finishing preparing his lunch: chicken nuggets and fries from the air fryer, alongside a bottled Coke. Their favorite hangover meal.

His eyes dart to the kitchen floor in embarrassment. "And... thank you. For taking care of me last night. I'm sorry that you had to."

Bev dumps the food onto a plate on their table, sets the tray back in the fryer, and eyes him. She folds her arms across her torso. "Why are you sorry?"

"Because I was an asshole and its not your job to take care of me."

She almost laughs. "Of course it is! I'll always take care of you, Eddie-"

There's a thick silence in the kitchen in which Bev reconsiders her words. Eddie was all-too used to his mother claiming total responsibility for his well-being... not a healthy relationship. It's one he's trying to distance himself from, as a matter of fact. Bev's face is apologetic and she tries to clarify.

"I just mean... You're my friend and I love you, you don't ever have to be sorry about needing my help."

Eddie nods and accepts her kindness. "I love you, too, B. I was still an asshole, though." He takes a seat and waits for the food to cool.

"What did Richie say when you talked to him?"

His face turns pink and his eyes shoot up to meet hers. "How did you-?"

She holds up her phone with a flippant smile on her face.

"Right." He sighs heavily and supports his head with both hands on the table. "Uh... I don't know. He was annoyed and I asked him to delete the voicemails and he just put on that stupid fucking smile, so he probably won't and he'll probably Tweet them out to the whole world and my life is over."

Bev rolls her eyes and takes the chair across from him while he starts taking bites of the food. "Richie's not gonna do that. If you asked him to delete them, he will."

Eddie's eyebrows shoot into his hairline. "Really? You think _Richie_ will do what I asked?"

She pauses. "Maybe. I guess, maybe not?" A laugh cracks from her and she covers her mouth. "Shit, I don't know!"

Eddie groans. "It's not funny!" He opens the Coke and takes a giant gulp, his body instinctively sucking it down. He's gasping for air after he swallows. "I can't believe the shit I said... and just what I remember!"

"Is he mad about the hundreds of calls?"

Eddie shoots her an irritated look. _It wasn't 'hundreds of calls', thank you very much. It was only... a few dozen. _He considers the question. "No. I don't think so."

And for the first time, Eddie begins processing their exchange from earlier. "_Don't ever fucking do that to me again!"_ and _"He's not my boyfriend"_ and _"I actually admired the honesty"_ are rattling around in his fuzzy, heavy brain. Richie had reproached him, teased him, and forgiven the incident all in one talk. He'd mentioned being worried about Eddie, which made his heart do a small hiccup. _"You're still cute as can be, Eds."_ Why would he say shit like that? And now all he can think about is Richie's messy dark hair and freckles and nose and deep, brown eyes behind a pair of stylish black glasses. He can't stop thinking about Richie's mention of saving a shirtless picture of him, and imagines Richie taking guilty glances at it, missing what he used to have free roam access to. Eddie feels his cheeks getting hot and his dick twitch, and he shifts uncomfortably. Ugh.

He punishes himself and his cursed libido with forced thoughts of _'he didn't want you'_ and _'he abandoned you'_ and _'you're not good enough'_ and _'he's moved on.'_ His heart drops and the remaining emotion turns bitter.

"Eddie?" Bev asks patiently.

He blinks. "I don't really care if he's mad."

Bev gives an empathetic look. "Sorry."

"Of everyone involved, you share the _least_ amount of blame." He continues eating, feeling a bit better after each bite. Enough to focus on his newest issue-at-hand. "So, he's coming up next weekend?"

The question hits Bev like a truck, her eyes go wide. "Eddie, I didn't even think- Dude, I'm so- I'm so _so so so_ sorry, Eddie, I just loved talking to him and Stan this morning, and I texted him right after and asked them to come to New York, I miss our friends so much-"

"Bev." He stops her. "It's okay. I miss our friends, too." He swallows more of his food along with his pride. "It's... fine, if Richie wants to come up."

Bev takes his hand across the table. "Are you sure?"

Eddie holds her soft hand tight for a moment to relay sincerity. "Yeah." And he finishes his meal. "Just... Don't let me drink next weekend, yeah?"

"Good call." She smiles.

* * *

It's Monday.

Eddie wakes up nearly 40 minutes before his alarm goes off in the morning. It's not quite time for him to start getting ready, so he goes to the kitchen, pours himself a cup of orange juice, and heads back to his bed. To think.

The more he thinks about the Facetime conversation, the angrier he's getting.

...

Before now, Eddie had been one hundred percent, fully, unconditionally in love with Richie. For much longer than the short time they had been 'official.' He couldn't remember when it started - maybe sometime when they were in middle school? When they'd spend their summers riding bikes, swimming at the quarry, exploring the barrens, reading comics in the clubhouse in the woods. One day he just woke up and knew how important this stupid, loudmouth, lanky, four-eyed dork was to him. It seemed like this unattainable happiness - to be with Richie. His mother's suffocating abuse and lockdown on his social life were obstacles that he'd taken great risks to maneuver... all in the name of spending just a little bit more time with this very weird, annoying boy he'd fallen for. And then, by some kind of miracle that he didn't think he deserved, Richie reciprocated those feelings. Richie said he loved Eddie; said he'd always loved Eddie; said he'd do anything and go anywhere for Eddie. It was like a dream. And it could only get better as they went on dates together, went everywhere together, took photos together, planned adventures together, laughed together, had sex together, planned college together.

Until Richie decided he didn't feel that way anymore. And Eddie's plans for a happy, fulfilled future were smashed into tiny, miserable pieces.

The break-up had been so jarring. Out of left field.

_"Aren't you tired of fucking around with the only other gay kid in Derry?"_ was the resonating sound of Eddie's nightmares. As if their relationship was based on absolutely nothing but convenience. It was a direct blow to the entirety of what they'd built between them, and made Eddie question if every single moment they'd ever shared together was, indeed, a dream.

Eddie stayed away from Richie. He stayed away from everyone, after that. Graduation came and went, Eddie didn't go. It wasn't hard to convince his mom he didn't want to walk in the ceremony, and she was happy to keep him at home to celebrate his graduation privately, with less noise and home-made food. His friends had texted him begging to hang out, to celebrate at the old club house. He ignored them. So they came to him, instead. Beverly had come to see him graduation day. Then Bill. Then Mike and Ben, both. Stan came by the following day, after surviving multiple graduation parties thrown by his church and his family.

Richie never did.

And Richie never collected his garbage from Eddie's home, either. Shirts left lying in his bedroom. A couple pairs of sneakers lying around. Some comics he'd let Eddie borrow. Well, Eddie certainly wasn't going to make the trip to take the asshole's shit back to him, if he wanted it so bad, he could come get it himself. _And then he'd have to talk about all of this,_ he'd thought.

Richie never did.

So Eddie bagged up Richie's things and threw them in his home's garbage bin _(except for one crewneck sweatshirt, but NOT because it was the one that smelled most like Richie and his stupid body spray, it's because it was a nice color and he was going to need some things for cold season in New York, thank you very much)_.

And when the day came for the first of the college-bound Losers to take their leave of Derry, Richie left. Without saying goodbye. No text. No call. Nothing. He was just... Gone.

...

Eddie's journey of emotional stability over the past six months had been painful and difficult. And for Richie to metaphorically poke at his still-healing wound was inhumane, at the very least.

Fuck him for thinking that Eddie's voicemails were cute. Fuck him for thinking it was funny and that he could be proud of the way Eddie still pined for him, even after breaking his heart. Fuck Richie for making fun of the way Eddie had been vulnerable and drunk and sad. Fuck him for acting like they were still friends and for acting like there'd never been any kind of Earth-shattering ending to the most intimate, important connection Eddie's ever experienced in his lifetime.

And fuck him if he thinks that Eddie will give him any kind of attention or time-of-day when he visits Beverly this weekend.

Those angry thoughts continue bouncing around in his skull through his first class, through his second class, and follow him when he walks home to work on his assignments.

And speak of the Devil. His phone begins buzzing.

_ **Richie Tozier** _

It's not a pleasant conversation.

* * *

It's Tuesday.

Eddie doesn't want Richie to come to New York.

He does _not_ want to talk about "everything."

This sucks.

* * *

It's Wednesday.

Eddie kind of wants Richie to come to New York.

Because... honestly? Beneath the layers of rage and regret and melancholy, Richie has a permanent place in his heart.

No matter how much he's been hurt, he just wants to _see Richie_.

And it's detrimental to Eddie's pride.

This sucks.

* * *

It's Thursday.

Eddie is trying to keep his mind off the fact that Richie is coming to New York.

This is going to be awkward and it sucks.

...

"Wow. That was..." Bev is staring at the flat screen tv with an amused look. "Shit."

They finish a scary movie on Netflix, _Would You Rather_, and Eddie is disgusted. "Just fucking gross."

Bev finishes her glass of wine and hops off the couch towards the kitchen for a refill. "You want some more? I'll just bring the bottle." He doesn't answer, but she brings it with her anyway.

"You are the best wife I could ask for," He says fondly as he holds out his not-even-close-to-empty glass.

She tops it off with an uneasy hand, slightly tipsy from sipping her way through that mediocre movie. "Goddamn right," and she winks.

Eddie picks up their remote and begins navigating through the miscellaneous horror and thriller movies they can choose from to end their movie night. They're working their way through as much as possible before they're taken off, post-Halloween season. _Seen it. Don't wanna watch it. Torture movie, gross. That looks boring. Huge tits on the preview, not interested._ He's not thrilled with the options.

"Edward." Beverly bursts out. "Look at me."

Eddie's surprised eyes fix on Bev.

"Let's talk about Richie."

"Ugh, Bev, I don't-"

"_No._ My turn." She presses a hand over his mouth, spilling wine with the movement. Okay, maybe she's a little more than tipsy. "I know that Richie broke your heart because he's an _dumbass asshole idiot_. I know that he majorly fucked up our last summer in Derry. I know that you miss him and you're sad a lot and yeah yeah." She takes another sip. Eddie is speechless. "But I also know that he misses you, too. That's why he's excited to talk to you again. You guys were friends, remember?"

"Whatever."

"_NO! This is not whatever._ I know you don't wanna hear it, but Richie made a mistake and he wants to fix it. You don't have to hate him forever. You can be friends again."

"I _know_ he made a fucking mistake. _Multiple mistakes._ I don't need you to fucking point that out, Beverly."

"Stop it, okay?" She demands. "This weekend is going to fix this shit. I want to see all the Losers more." She burps.

Eddie can't help but smile. He can't argue. He wants that, too, but he's at a loss. "Bev, I don't know what to do."

"That's what I'm telling you, dipshit." She smiles back. "Let him try to fix it."

His mouth tugs to one side, considering.

"Let him try, Eddie."

...

Bev is passed out next to him on the couch, leaning on him. They're covered in some of the blankets they keep in their common space, bundled and relaxed.

He's patiently watching another shitty Netflix movie, _Demonic_. At least the lead actor is attractive. He thinks maybe he's seen him in something else before, a different show or movie, but he can't match it in his mind.

His phone buzzes.

**Richie Tozier **| 11/7/19 at 11:10 P.M. | **Hey what you up to?**

"Shit." He says outloud.

And he glances slightly over to Bev, mouth hanging open and quietly snoring against Eddie's shoulder. She's the most precious thing in the world. He trusts her. And she thinks he should let Richie try to be sorry.

********Sent**** | 11/7/19 at 11:10 P.M. | **Watching a scary movie. Wbu?**

**Richie Tozier** | 11/7/19 at 11:11 P.M. | **Watching bobs burgers. What movie**

****Sent**** | 11/7/19 at 11:11 P.M. | **Demonic**

**Richie Tozier** | 11/7/19 at 11:12 P.M. | **The fuck is that**

They can try to be friends. _'Let him try_,' Eddie reminds himself.

****Sent**** | 11/7/19 at 11:12 P.M. | **Uh........ a very not good movie lol**

****Sent**** | 11/7/19 at 11:12 P.M. | ****Do not recommend****

******Sent****** | 11/7/19 at 11:13 P.M. | ********Main character is hot tho********

**Richie Tozier** | 11/7/19 at 11:13 P.M. | **Noted**

Not a very Richie-like response. And now he knows that Richie needs some encouragement, or they're never going to have incredibly awkward this conversation.

****Sent**** | 11/7/19 at 11:32 P.M. | **So wats up?**

The three mysterious dots that indicate an in-progress text message appear and begin animating, so Eddie waits.

...

**Richie Tozier** | 11/7/19 at 11:40 P.M. | **Ok im sorry to do this via text but i dont know how i could do this over the phone and i really dont wanna wait til we get to new york. Eds im really sorry for calling you earlier this week. I guess i thoought bc you were ok with talking to me on sunday i could call you an dtry to chat, but i kinda forgot that i screwed up our friendship when i ended things like i did.**

****Richie Tozier**** | 11/7/19 at 11:42 P.M. | **Even tho you were drunk, im really glad yo ucalled me because i still love you as a friend and it was really nice to talk to you again. I just want you to know that im sorry for being a jackass. Im excited to see you and bev tomorrow and im looking forward to getting drunk and eating some new york pizza!! :D**

Eddie fixates happily on _"really glad you called me"_ and then hits another low with_"love you as a friend."_ But it's at least... It's something to work off of. And it'll be nice to go into the weekend with that to work off.

He begins to type back his thoughts, unchecked.

_Richie im not mad at you and i dont hate you for calling me, i've missed you_\- Nope. Erase that.

_I just don't understand why it had to end that way. Why was it the only option? Why couldn't we have talked more about it? Why couldn't you just talk to me? I thought that you loved me. I thought that you trusted me. I thought we were at least friends enough to stay friends after we broke up_\- Nope. Not ready for that yet. Not the time.

...

He settles for the path of least resistance. The best chance for a less uncomfortable weekend.

****Sent**** | 11/7/19 at 11:50 P.M. | **Thanks for apologizing rich. Its ok, i know how you are and i was just being sensitive.**

******Sent****** | 11/7/19 at 11:50 P.M. | ********You dont have to be sorry for breaking up or whatever its fine, that was forever ago now and we can work on being friends. This weekend will be great bcuz we'll go out and get drunk and itll be good!********

Oh, except, he intends on staying sober. That is of vital importance.

* * *

It's Friday.

Beverly comes home from her last class, pulls her earbuds out, and sets her things down inside their front door. "Eddie! You ready to make a trip to the store?"

He's waiting on the couch, checking social media. He's definitely not at all looking at Richie's recent tweets, stories, and snaps. He's not looking for any 'excited to go to New York'- or 'gonna see some old friends'-type posts. He did find an Instagram story from Stan's account that showed the two of them on the road, singing along to David Bowie. He couldn't deny that it was cute. Although, it's super unsafe to be playing the music that loud, but at least Stan was driving, like Richie said.

"Yep! I'm ready." He locks his phone and pulls on his jacket. "Got our shopping list?"

"Yess'ir, let's do it." And they're walking out the door to the local grocery to pick up some food, mixers, and extra toilet paper for the weekend.

"Bev, there is one more thing we need to discuss." Eddie insists as they're walking down the stairs of their building. "Where exactly are Rich and Stan sleeping?"

Their apartment was a standard two-bedroom, one-bathroom, a tiny living room, and a tiny kitchen. Not a lot of spare space for visitors.

Bev stops to turn around and give Eddie a cheeky look. "Richie can sleep in your room, you just have to ask."

His jaw strains. "That's so not funny."

"Sorry," But she laughs it off. "I like sleeping on the couch, so they can take my room."

"You think they'll share a bed?"

"I don't know, Eddie? They can fight over it."

"I'll let Stanley sleep in my bed if he needs to. I can sleep on the floor."

Bev giggles. "Yeah, right."

"_What the fuck are you laughing at?_"

"You're just..." Bev shakes her head. "You're funny."

Beverly has a keen eye, she's very in-tune with what he's thinking, and Eddie kind of hates her for it. He's excited. He'd spent so much time cleaning their apartment and preparing for them to come to their place, you'd think it was a Sonia Kaspbrak visit. He was nervous. And excited. And exhausted, thinking over all the hypothetical situations that could play out over the next 48 hours. But also excited. Very excited.

"I know what you're thinking and that's not going to happen."

"Ok." She dismisses.

"_It's not gonna happen!_"

"I said 'ok!' Jeez." She holds open the building door. "So defensive."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter... THE AWKWARD BUT DELICIOUSLY TENSE REUNION IN NYC! We're getting into it now, fam. I'm super super super excited to write up the next couple of chapters. I anticipate some SEXUAL TENSION and some DRUNK CONFESSIONS and maybe even some *drum roll* ......SMUT.
> 
> [ agentkgent.tumblr.com ]


	5. Make a sound

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our boys arrive in NYC for the weekend... Everything will probably go normally and very well, also. (LOL JK this is a dumpster fire-level awkward reunion for Eddie and Richie. Meanwhile Stan and Bev are going to eyeroll into the next dimension. Also we've got TENSION in the club, y'all.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by hbd's "Gameboy" - https://open.spotify.com/album/5tzU9j9oMtTdgwwrOilt2E
> 
> Lol do you ever notice how each chapter gets longer and longer because im terrible at writing and have so many details bouncing around in my head
> 
> GET READY FOR SOME FRUSTRATINGLY OBLIVIOUS RICHIE and SUPER FLIRTY DRUNK EDDIE

"Richie, are you serious? How out-of-shape are you, man?" Stan calls from a couple flights of stairs up.

"Do not-" Richie heaves from exhaustion. "fuck with-" Deep breath. "me right now, Stan." He's a few moments away from death, his lungs about to collapse.

They're climbing the building's stairs to the 7th floor apartment of Beverly and Eddie. It's late - they got caught up in some Friday afternoon traffic and are arriving right as the sun's going down.

He reaches the landing and leans over to rest, holding himself up at his knees. "The fact that this building doesn't have a fucking elevator... What fucking year is it?"

Stan doesn't wait for him, he knocks gently on Apartment 702. Richie hustles his ass up the remaining steps to straighten himself up for when Eddie- _for when whoever_ opens the door.

Stan side-eyes him. "_Stop it._"

"_You stop it._" Richie hisses.

Some muffled moving, a couple of clicks in the door, and Beverly opens the apartment with a gigantic smile. "Guys!!" And she throws herself over Stanley's shoulders, he wraps her arms around her in response.

"Hey Bev," Stan responds softly, but his smile is huge and bright.

She steps back and rests her hands on his shoulders to smile at him. "It's been so long, oh my gosh! Why do you look different? You look older!"

Stan's brow furrows, but he smiles sweetly. "Thank you? I think? You look great! Just as ginger as ever."

"Hell yes, boy!" She chirps and winks at him. And then Bev turns her attention to Richie, who practically launches his backpack at Stan.

"Hi Bevvy!" He exclaims immediately and scoops her up in a hug, spinning them together. "How's the baddest bitch that ever 'done escaped Derry?"

"Badder and bitchier than ever!" She giggles and grunts as he lifts her. "Okay, okay you can put me down, Rich."

"I might never!" He growls playfully and she squeals in response, but he sets her back down.

"Hey guys!" Says a happy, wonderful, familiar voice from somewhere in the apartment.

As if in slow motion, Richie's attention and entire world redirects towards the angelic voice across the inside of the apartment. And there's Eddie. Not on a phone screen, not in compressed recorded audio, not in social media posts or in photos online, but right there. Smiling and walking to greet them. Richie's feet go numb and he forgets how to move.

His favorite memories and fantasies are real again. They exist solely in the reality of the boy he cares more about than anyone else in the entire world, but had forced himself to forget. Repressed feelings in the name of falling on the sword and protecting Eddie from an unfulfilled life of mediocrity. It all comes crashing over him again like a tidal wave; a supercut of Richie's favorite moments. Suddenly, he's 13 again and staring stupidly at the cutest, tiniest, fussiest boy he's ever met. He's gawking at his best friend sleeping peacefully in his bed that they shared during sleepovers. He's nervously holding Eddie's hand during their first movie date. He's holding Eddie close during their senior prom, watching Eddie blush profusely from people glancing at them. _He's looking up at Eddie panting and moving on top of him, saying his name over and over again-_

"Uh, hey Rich." Eddie says awkwardly.

Richie's eyes refocus and Eddie is a couple feet away, making a confused face. _Shit. Fuck. Fuck. Shit. Fuckin shit._

"Hey Eds!" Richie forces himself to blurt. He pushes up his glasses nervously, takes one strong step forward, and stops suddenly. _Move idiot._ And then awkwardly closes the distance and gives Eddie a very not-romantic hug, patting him roughly on the back.

"Oh- uh-" Eddie's voice is cut by the harsh pats. "Okay, yeah, hi Rich."

He worries about his body involuntarily reacting to Eddie's closeness, so he quickly steps back and puts on a dumb smile. "Do you- You look-" He nods his head, even though he hasn't actually said anything.

There's an uncomfortable silence. Eddie looks at Stan.

"Okay, good work, Rich." Stan pats Richie's shoulder, mocking him openly, and moves around him to Eddie for a hug. "Hey Kaspbrak!"

Eddie glances at Richie again before smiling at Stan and giving him a welcoming hug. "It's so good to see you, Stanley! God, it's been so long. You doing okay?"

Richie closes his eyes and grits his teeth. _Smooth._ He looks back to Bev closing the apartment door behind them and smiling devilishly. "Shut up." He threatens, but so ridiculously excited to see his favorite girl that he steps back and throws an arm over her shoulders.

...

"Kitchen and living room here, obviously. Then down the hall: bathroom's on the right. My room's on the left, Eddie's is at the end." Bev gestures down their small hallway.

Richie's hand squeezes his backpack straps anxiously. "Do you guys have an air mattress?"

Eddie scoffs. "No." Like it's a stupid question. "They're expensive. We've got two beds, a couch, and a floor. Take your pick."

"Well, I'm sleeping wherever I don't have to smell city trash."

"None of our rooms smell like 'city trash.'"

"Eds, there's like, three dumpsters right outside your window in the living room." He drops his bag and plops down onto the couch next to Bev.

"We're seven floors up, moron." Eddie takes a seat on the floor by the coffee table.

"That's how pungent New York dumpsters _are_, Eds. You're just too used to it to notice."

Eddie huffs angrily, and holds up a hand to gesture toward a 3rd party. "Stan, does it smell like dumpsters up here?"

Stan holds both hands up and strides toward the kitchen. "Not interested, you two have fun." And he begins unpacking the booze they brought along. _Most supportive fuckin friend in the world, Staniel,_ Richie thinks.

Eddie looks scandalized and turns to Beverly for support. She smiles knowingly, pats Richie on the knee, and stands up. "I'm gonna help Stan and let you two... Yep." There's something about the way she's smiling that makes Richie curious what they talk about... involving _him_.

Eddie sits quietly on a floor pillow across from Richie, but isn't looking at him. Richie is too nervous to open his mouth again about anything sincere, so he sticks to what feels natural for them. "You've gotten shorter." He screams internally as soon as the words leave his mouth.

Eddie's irritated eyes meet his. "You've gotten uglier."

Richie puts on a suave smile. "You know that's not true, I've got some nice college age showing on me now!"

"Is that what it is? You look like shit. Like you haven't slept in months."

"Too much partying, Spaghetti Man."

Eddie rolls his eyes. "Too many keg parties and strip clubs with Frat boys, you mean?"

"I'm not in a Frat, Eddie."

"You hang out with Frat boys and at Frat parties, though."

Richie's surprised at the accusation. "Oh? Not me." Because it's the truth. "They're kinda lame and overcrowded. And they charge for drinks, which is stupid. Plus, pretty much all Frat dudes are in the closet and horny as fuck, and they stare at me like a piece of meat."

Eddie's face twists into a sarcastic smile and he looks away. "Great for you."

He regrets saying that. _Okay, next topic._ "I'm excited to check out bars here in New York! You must have a lot of fun where everyone is normal and not homophobic or sexually repressed!" Eddie chuckles slightly at that. "Do you go out a lot?"

Eddie swallows hard, then shrugs and looks at Richie again. "Eh, ya'know, we like going out on Wednesdays and weekends. Our favorite places don't card."

"Nice. Are drinks expensive?"

"Not that bad, and usually lots of people buy drinks for us, there's a lot of college guys and people our age." Eddie's phone buzzes quietly. He checks the phone's preview and his face turns pink right away. He silences his phone and types a response fast, then shoves it in his jacket pocket.

"You okay?" Richie asks. He's also trying to avoid picturing random dudes trying to get Eddie drunk with free drinks.

"So, you _do_ wanna go out tonight?" Eddie avoided the question. Hmm.

"Uh, I mean, yeah, sure. I just wanna hang out with you guys. If you wanna get drunk here instead of going out, we brought some beer and some whiskey."

"Well, I really don't know if I-" Eddie pulls his phone from his pocket, reads the preview, and puts it back quickly. "-if I'm even drinking tonight. Um." He's flustered now.

Richie's eyes flick towards the kitchen. He can't see Beverly or Stanley, and he thinks they're hiding behind the wall - just out of eyeline. _Scheming. Those fuckers._

"So. Uh. Before we do anything, I think we should. Go upstairs." Eddie mutters. "And talk."

Richie doesn't say anything, he just nods stupidly.

...

Eddie leads them up to the roof of his building. Richie takes a deep inhale of the fresh air, the breeze whipping against his jacket and blowing his hair. He can't see much on the roof itself, but he can see traffic lights and street lamps and business signs around them; giant structures and buildings as far as his eye can see. There's car noises and city activity echoing below from every angle. He takes one full look around himself, landing on Eddie, a couple yards away, watching him. He can't decipher the look on his face but can see the shine in his eyes.

Richie feels small as he locks eye contact. There's a quiet moment before he finally manages to speak. "Nice view."

"Yeah. We're not supposed to be up here, but Bev broke into the maintenance stairwell."

Richie smiles admiringly. "God, love that woman."

"She's the best. She smokes up here sometimes because she knows it bothers me."

They stand quietly for a moment. Now is the time. But his tongue feels swollen and stuck and he can't get himself to talk. He doesn't know where to start. How far back does he go? Does he explain the college complication? Does he ask about New York? Should he clarify that he hasn't _slept with anyone else_? "I... I don't know how to start." He says plainly.

"That's a first." Eddie teases and smiles gently, and it's a jab right to Richie's heart. "Okay, so, I think we need to get this out of the way right now. Because I wanna have fun and I want you guys to have fun, and this doesn't need to be weird."

Richie pretends to function and nods. "Uh-huh. I don't it to be weird."

"So," And Eddie takes a deep breath, but doesn't meet Richie's eyes again. "I'm sorry about calling you drunk last weekend and leaving you a bunch of shitty voicemails. And then I'm sorry for being an asshole when you tried to call me and check on me the next day." He's getting it out fast, but his voice is starting to sound strained. "I'm sorry I never called or texted you to check in since you left. I know you _didn't want a long distance boyfriend_ and you wanted to move on and date other people. I shouldn't hate you for doing what was best for you."

Somehow, the very concrete under Richie's feet crumbles and falls right out from beneath him.

_Eddie's sorry? Sorry... for what? For getting his heart broken?_

"Eddie..." Richie takes a step closer. Eddie's eyes are glinting from city lights around them. "It's okay that you're mad. It's-"

"But I'm not mad, Richie. I just miss you like crazy. And I'm over it, it's okay that you broke up with me."

Richie's chest clenches painfully. This isn't the conversation he was hoping for. There is so much more than the silly interactions they've exchanged the past week. His regrets stretch much farther back than Eddie's drunk dialing and post-break up antics. He hated himself for what he'd done to them. He wants to tell him why he broke Eddie's heart; why he stayed away from him at all costs. "Eddie, _I'm_ sorry. I'm sorry that you felt like shit and felt like you... I'm sorry that I made fun of you being drunk... I'm just really-" His throat catches and he can't finish. There's so much he's done wrong that he wants to right. What he wants to say is _'I'm sorry for every stupid mistake I ever made and I'm sorry I ruined us and I'm sorry for ever being away from you even for a fucking minute.'_

But Eddie just wants to move on. And be... friends. And that's it. Eddie wants to be able to get on with his life. Eddie wants to keep Richie as a friend, always a text away, ready to chat lightly about whatever unimportant bullshit comes up. Eddie wants to be able to move past the pain that Richie put him through and look forward to dating other people. Eddie needs closure.

And Richie realizes that he owes Eddie that, at the very fucking least.

"I miss you too, Eds. Of course we can be friends." He resigns.

Eddie's lip tugs in a slight smile. "Don't call me Eds, asshole."

"Sorry Eds."

Eddie rolls his eyes but smiles. "God, you haven't changed at all. You're still a dick."

"Can't fight nature." He says and puts on a fake 'cool' again. "We good?"

Eddie smiles back. "We're good, Rich. I'm glad to have you back."

And he takes steps to close the gap and give Richie a hug. A redo of what they should have had earlier. Richie wraps his arms around Eddie's head and holds him snugly. He absolutely hates himself. He doesn't deserve even the slightest fraction of friendship from this wonderful boy. And his heart aches knowing that this is strictly a platonic hug. He knows now. He knows that none of anything that happens on this trip is an opportunity to be intimate or flirty or close to Eddie like he wants.

* * *

The group is officially heading out to a bar that Bev and Eddie say they won't have to show I.D. to get into. Some popular place a couple blocks away called "Baby's." They're excited because it's also 2000's night and they wanna hear some terrible hip-hop and pop music, Bev insists its the best event they throw. They've all had a few shots to pregame the night, and Stan downed a couple of beers for good measure. (Eddie had planned to stay sober, but even Bev couldn't stop Richie and Stan's chants of 'SHOT O'CLOCK' until he swallowed the bitter liquid.) Richie knows that Stan is looking forward to not being responsible tonight. He's usually the 'designated parent' when his roommates throw house parties.

"I _can't wait_ to go up and down these stairs the whole fucking time we're here..." Richie declares sarcastically while they file into the hallway.

Bev exchanges a look with Eddie and the two burst into laughter.

"What?" Stan asks, louder than necessary.

Richie looks at both of them. "What're you fuckers laughing at?"

Eddie clears his throat and waves a hand dramatically. "There _is_ an elevator."

Richie's jaw drops. "_Nuh-uh!_ We looked! There fucking isn't!"

"We didn't see a friggin elevator." Stan echoes loudly.

Bev giggles. "Yes there is. It's on the _left_ side of the first floor."

Richie boils over. "_Why didn't you tell us?!_"

"_I did, you just didn't fucking listen!_" Bev bites back. Eddie is cackling laughing behind her.

"Jesus Christ I'm gonna throw myself down those fuckin stairs..." Stan mumbles, and Eddie shushes him drunkenly and pulls him by the arm back to the elevator while the others laugh.

...

The club is loud and packed, almost wall to wall. Music is blaring and filling every inch of space while a mixture of string lights and changing color-bulbs twinkle from the ceiling. The floor is sticky in a way that tells Richie people have lots of fun here. He's carrying his favorite signature drink back to the table Bev managed to get for them in a corner near the bar. He normally scans the crowd for opportunities to flirt, but he can't really bring himself to act that way tonight. He's a little too satisfied being in this kind of proximity to Eddie. Eddie is perfectly nice to look at. More than nice. Especially now that they're both several shots in, and Richie's ego is overactive and Eddie's cheeks are constantly red.

"What'd you get?" Beverly shouts over the music.

"Fireball and Lemonade!" Richie takes a generous mouthful and the ice clinks against his glasses sloppily.

"Is it really that good?" Bev asks.

"It looks fucking disgusting." Eddie spouts with a smirk.

Stan is distracted, staring at a group of girls huddled near them, his face almost perfectly butt-level with the ones facing away from him.

"No no no, you need to try it!" Richie holds the drink across the tiny table right up to Eddie's face. "It's so good, Eds, you don't even know!"

Eddie practically assaults Richie's cool by leaning forward and putting his mouth on the in-hand cup. His soft, alcohol-sticky lips brush against Richie's fingers. It takes an enormous amount of focus for Richie to not drop the fucking drink right there. Eddie lifts a hand over Richie's to tilt the cup slightly, and allow an adequate sip. The contact sends sparks up Richie's arm, and he watches a few drops run down the sides of Eddie's chin and onto his neck. This is... fucking _dangerous_.

Eddie's face scrunches up as if it's disgusting. And then he relaxes. And then he shakes his head and mouths "No." And another pause, then he raises his eyebrows, reconsidering.

Bev immediately screams over the music and slams her back against her seat. "The fuck, are you the Kombucha girl?!" And she's laughing hard and grabbing Richie's shirt.

"It's not _that_ disgusting." Eddie says dramatically and laughs. Then he locks eyes with Richie, who hasn't quite returned to reality. Eddie doesn't shy away from Richie's gawking. He holds the eye contact for a moment before widening his smile and looks away, across the crowd.

Richie smirks in response and tries to ignore the twisting low in his belly.

...

He's coming out of the bathroom near the back of the bar when Eddie finds him.

"There you are!" Eddie huffs drunkenly.

"There I am!" Richie imitates.

Eddie pouts and swats at the air. "I sound nothing like that." He looks behind Richie. "What are you doing?"

"Uh," Richie points a thumb over his shoulder. "Taking a piss."

"Hot." Eddie raises his eyebrows animatedly.

"No shit." And he fluffs the neck of his shirt. It's actually hot in this bar. Like, how is it so steamy and hot in here?

Eddie stands quietly before nearly tipping over. He laughs and catches himself on one arm while Richie tries to hold him up at the other. Eddie stumbles backward into the nearest corner, leaning against one of the walls and Richie follows, putting a hand against the wall over Eddie's shoulder and leaning in close. He can smell Eddie's cologne mingled with liquor. He can also see a deep flush on Eddie's cheeks. He knows he shouldn't push it, shouldn't put himself in a position like this... but he's just drunk enough to not care at the moment.

"It's quieter back here." He breaths close to Eddie's ear. "And hot. Aren't you hot?" There's sweat moving down on the nape of his neck.

Eddie's breathing is shaky when he leans up slightly to reach Richie's ear. "Yeah. We could take off our shirts."

"_You can_ but I can't, I didn't dress in layers."

"Good to know." Eddie fidgets with Richie's collar, glancing between his eyes and lips.

He knows that Eddie is bolder when he's drunk. He knows that Eddie's also... a horny drunk. (His favorite trick at high school parties had been to distance himself for an hour or two, then let Eddie basically jump him several drinks later.) So with that in mind, he's not sure if this behavior is actually aimed at him, or if he's just caught in the... bold-horny-drunk crossfire.

"Eds..." Richie begins.

"Fuck, I miss that." Eddie says and grabs Richie by the hips, crashing them together. "Miss you calling me your stupid ass nicknames." He grinds up against Richie's crotch, and Richie bites a gasp back while Eddie hums into his ear. He's realizing that Eddie is probably a little more hammered than he is, because he's saying things _and doing things_ he doesn't mean. "_I miss you so fucking much_."

Richie's body is screeching in excitement, but his brain isn't so saturated with alcohol that he can ignore the complication of recovering friendship. He remembers Eddie exaggerating in the drunk voicemails he left. He remembers Eddie mentioning kissing multiple people and letting someone pick him up. None of this is real. None of it is for him, Richie thinks. This is all just... the whiskey version of Eddie. He uses his hands to hold Eddie at the shoulders and step back. "Eddie, you're drunk."

Eddie's lips part and his eyes are dark. "So are you." And he pulls down on Richie's collar, trying to kiss him.

Richie steadies himself and steps back, pulling Eddie's hands from his shirt. "Not nearly as much as you."

"Then drink more." Eddie pushes himself off the wall to get closer.

_What the fuck?_ Richie thinks. _As if this isn't already fucking difficult. _"No, you need to stop." He says sternly.

It takes extra time for his refusal to process, and Eddie's face turns furious. "What the fuck is your problem?"

Richie is about to get just as furious. If he just wants to stay friends, it's _fucking cruel_ to do this kind of shit to him. "Right now, you're my problem." He yells.

Eddie's jaw drops before he manages to yell, "Fuck you!" He shoves Richie out of the way as he storms into the crowd, towards the bar.

...

"Bev!"

Beverly is talking with a stranger near the far wall from the front door. "Hey Rich, where have you-"

"Does Eddie have a set of keys, too? Like, with him?"

She blinks. "Uh, yeah, he carries them on his lanyard."

"Give me your keys. I'm going back right now." He says loudly.

Her face turns distressed at his demand. "Richie, come on-" She pleads with him. "Come on, please stay out with us, don't leave-"

He calms himself to give her a sincere look, help her worry less. "It's okay, Bev, really. I'm just ready to call it a night."

"I'll come with you!" She looks around and searches the dance floor for Stan and Eddie. When she spots them, they're obliterated drunk, wobbly, and each dancing provocatively with strangers. "Well... Actually, I guess I need to stay and round-up our asshole friends." She folds her arms and gives Richie a concerned look.

He gives a halfhearted smile. "I'm okay, really," he lies. "I'll see you guys back at the apartment."

She pulls her keys from her jacket pocket and hands them over. "The brassy key is our apartment." She grabs his shirt just as he starts to move away. "Don't forget the elevator is on the _first floor on the left_."

"Won't forget." And he practically runs out, avoiding the dance floor.

* * *

"Shit." Richie mumbles to himself outloud, alone on Bev and Eddie's roof. It's colder than he expected and he's having a tough time keeping his cigarette lit with all the air movement. He manages to get a flame on the tip of the cigarette, but barely gets it started with his inhales. He's bundled in his jacket and a blanket he brought along from Virginia, which is clean but still somehow smells like beer. Probably because he's left it at Stan's house a few times.

He wonders when the others will get home. It's already past 2:00 a.m. He pulls out his phone.

**Sent** | 11/9/19 at 2:14 A.M. | **Has stan gotten someone pregnant? Whats taking so long**

**Baddest beech in NYC** | 11/9/12 at 2:16 A.M. | **We're on our way bac**

**Baddest beech in NYC** | 11/9/12 at 2:17 A.M. | **Need to put them to bed immeidately**

****Baddest beech in NYC**** | 11/9/12 at 2:17 A.M. |**** Why did you abandon me****

**Stanley is a dickface** | 11/9/12 at 2:20 A.M. | ****GOT EVYOULJN PREGNT****

******Eds Kaspbrak****** | 11/9/12 at 2:25 A.M. | **********JUS FFUCK OFF**********

** ** ** ** ** _Eds Kaspbrak_ ** ** ** ** ** _ has left the conversation_

...

Just as Richie finishes another stress cigarette, the rusty door to the roof opens a few feet away from him.

"Ah ha! There you are." It's Bev.

"Found me."

Bev has a blanket with her, too. As well as something else. "You wanna smoke?"

Richie gives a confused look, but understands when she holds up her piece. "Yes ma'am." He's grateful. This will be easier and better than these shitty cigarettes. "So, are the boys downstairs?"

She takes a deep puff, then passes it and a lighter to him. "Stan and Eddie are both asleep. Finally." And she exhales, the smoke lost among her warm breath and wind. "Eddie insisted that Stan sleep in his bed, but Eddie passed out on the floor next to him. So, they're sharing Eddie's room, tonight." She laughs about something Richie doesn't know. "Oh my god, they were so funny. They're _so_ drunk."

"No shit." Richie lights and puffs from the piece. He holds it in for a short moment before exhaling. "Eddie is _gone_."

"He told me you wouldn't kiss him." Bev says, taking the piece back.

Richie rolls his eyes. "Yeah because _he's drunk_. And he didn't want to kiss _me_, he just wanted _someone to kiss_."

Bev puffs out a laugh-cough. "Are you sure?"

He shrugs. "He said it himself."

"Said what?"

"That he wants to be friends."

Bev smirks. "I thought you knew him better than that."

Richie takes another hit. "What do you mean?"

"Yeah, he wants to be friends again, but," she starts, and makes a 'duh' kind of gesture. "He still has feelings for you. Always has."

He swallows. "I mean, I guess I know that. But he wants to move on. So, we're just working on being friends again."

Her throat catches in a cough as she starts hollering laughing.

"The fuck is so funny?" He holds his arms out.

"_You guys_ are." She hands him the piece again. "Pretending you're not still batshit for each other. I mean, isn't that why you came up to New York?"

He puts on a genuinely hurt expression. "I came up because I wanted to see you!" He scoots closer to her and throws part of his blanket around her. "I didn't use you to try to see Eddie, Bev, really! I wanted to-"

"It's okay! I believe you, I know you wanted to see me, Rich." She pats his hand on his knee. "It's also okay that you wanted to see Eddie and... _be around him_, again."

He doesn't reply. It's the truth.

"Eddie may say he wants to be friends again, but I know for a fact that's _not all_ he wants."

Richie thinks for a moment. His eyebrows raise slightly before he asks carefully. "Really?"

"_Really_. But, you didn't hear it from me."

He sighs. "Fuck." He's running his hands through his hair, hating himself for continually missing the mark when he's dealing with Eddie.

"Yeah. _Fuck_." She taunts.

"I've missed him so much, Bev."

"I know." She wraps her arm around his and squeezes sympathetically.

"I fucked up so fucking bad, _like the nuclear bomb of all fuck-ups_, when I broke up with him."

"Yeah," She laughs quietly and hugs his arm tighter. "I know. We all knew. I can guess what you were thinking... but you definitely fucked up."

"And I... kind of turned him down tonight."

"I gathered that from Eddie's retelling." She rests her head on his shoulder and exhales more of the weed they're sharing. "You've still got tomorrow."

She's right.

The weekend's not over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DO NOT FRET, BABIES! Our boys are spending the whole weekend in NYC, so they're going out on Saturday night, too! And everyone's full of chaotic energy and it's about to be unleashed, dude. ITS GOIN DOWN, DUDE. NEXT CHAPTER: "IT'S CHEMICAL"
> 
> [ agentkgent.tumblr.com ]
> 
> Actual writing note #1: It's probably clear that my preferred way to communicate story development and plot un-folding is via CONVERSATION BETWEEN CHARACTERS. Sorry if there's too much of it, but it is my absolute favorite part of story telling and it's how I best follow and understand a plot.
> 
> Actual writing note #2: The funnest part about putting together this fic is that I'm using a TON of real-life college experiences and themes for these situations. It probably doesn't matter much to anyone else, but it's extremely fulfilling and theraputic for me to utilize some elements from my own college days, such as hangover meals, cocktails, visiting friends at other schools, wine nights with your roommate, bar hopping, pregaming, etc. It's just so much fun. It's like going back :')


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